


Sapphire

by spnhell



Series: Hues of Blue [1]
Category: The Hobbit - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Everyone Lives/Nobody Dies, Fili loves the forest 2k15, M/M, Mentions of canonical death, Not a major character though, Post-retaking of Erebor AU, Sibling Incest, everybody lives au
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-25
Updated: 2015-10-30
Packaged: 2018-04-06 01:05:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 12,569
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4202085
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/spnhell/pseuds/spnhell
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>On the morning of the ceremony to commemorate those lost in the years before Erebor was retaken, Fili walks the forest, relishing the silence, and thinking of how very lost he himself has become.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. There is a Pleasure in the Pathless Woods

**Author's Note:**

> Massive thanks go to the lovely [ Anathema_Cat ](http://archiveofourown.org/users/Anathema_Cat/pseuds/Anathema_Cat) for being a wonderful friend, an awesome beta, and for listening to me agonising over the writing process; and to [ durinsprinces ](http://archiveofourown.org/users/durinsprinces/pseuds/durinsprinces), whose hilarity has been making my days lately, and for being a fellow member of the Fili loves the forest 2k15 club.

They thought they knew him. He could see it in the shadow of their gaze, the glinting mirth that followed him as he roamed the forest, on yet another hunt for his elusive brother. He knew they believed his brother abnormal, to take such pleasure in the outside world, instead of finding solace in the welcoming embrace of the mountain. And he knew they pitied him, constantly being sent off on his trail. 

He smirked. Everyone thought that it was Kili who loved the forest, the endless blend of nature; vines climbing trees as though they could reach out and touch the stars. They were the lifeblood of the forest, holding everything together as though it would crack and crumble were they to loosen their grasp. The forest was similar to the mountain that way; if the Arkenstone was the heart of the mountain and the mithril streams its veins, then the moon was the heart of the woods, and the plants that wound themselves upwards and onwards towards it its lifeblood. 

But Kili had never appreciated the little things, only seeing the bigger picture, and the fact that every branch, every vine, every leaf, would carry him a step closer to the heart. Kili did not love the forest for its silence, nor its anonymity, but for its ability to let him soar. To not just _see_ the stars, but to be among them; to not just hear the call of the birds, but to fly with them. He would chase the wind, guided by the moonlight and the exasperated sighs of his brother below, who cared little for the view from the rooftops. He cared more for the low murmur of the nearby stream,  so different from the constant thrum of footsteps in the mountain, and the soft hum of life surrounding him. 

Because that was the thing. They all thought they knew him. That he took no pleasure in the winding ways of the forest, and only found causality in entering under orders to find his brother. But the thing about thoughts, Fili found, was that they were often wrong. The truth was, it was Fili who lost himself in the whispering echo of wind caught between the branches, in the indulgence of silence; his footsteps treading through the moss the only sound as he ventured away from the path, wanting to lose himself completely, if only for a moment, before the trees would embrace the sunlight and lead him home. 

***

It had been his father who introduced him to the forest. Before Kili was born, he had been regaled with tales of the redwoods of old; the ancient trees whose roots ran as deep as any mountain, and whose tips could touch the stars. He had heard the legends of the Ents, the great earth movers who stood fast to protect the forest from peril. Fili had listened with rapt attention, gazing out of his window in the Ered Luin long after he should have been asleep, watching the trees in the distance for any sign of movement. Whilst he wasn’t sure he believed the legends, he was young enough for his imagination to fill in the gaps, and he dreamt of adventures whereby he was swept up into the branches, the stars forming a silver ladder for him to climb up towards the moon. He dreamt that the crack and snap of the branches in the wind were the monsters coming to attack the village, whilst he rode high with the Ents to drive them back with his father's great sword and save the day. 

It wasn’t until after Kili was born that his father deemed him old enough to accompany him into the woodland. He had been afraid at first, curious eyes mistaking every shadow for a monster in the dark, sensitive ears feeling the crushing weight of the silence that was only broken by the occasional rustle of leaves. But his father had known him, had understood that one day he would need the forest, that he would appreciate its gentle quiet when the pressures of being the heir to their people became too much. He took him on his shoulders, high enough that he could just graze his fingertips along the lowermost branches, flickering leaves brushing his nose and pulling a giggle from him. He told him that one day he would grow tall and strong as any redwood, and would stand guard over his people as the wooden giants stood watch over their land, and that no matter how afraid he was now, one day he would find a pleasure in the pathless woods, and the call of the mountain would always be enough to lead him home. 

Fili had thought little of all that at the time, too busy being entranced by the endless shades of green, and then later, once he realised there was no need to be afraid, being chased through the trees, laughter vibrating through the many twists and turns as he did his utmost to evade capture. 

He understood a little better now. In the years that had passed since they’d reclaimed the mountain his training had become all the more intense. Up with the dawn every morning, pouring over the ancient texts of Erebor with Balin, before lunch and meetings with Thorin and the council all afternoon. It was in the hours before dusk that he would stand ready to listen to his people, to offer solutions to the many problems that came with the running of any city. He had little time for laughter now. So heavy was the weight of the prince’s crown that where he had once yearned to be like the redwood, steadfast and unmoving, a quiet protector of all he held dear, he now envied the birds their freedom, and came to realise perhaps Kili had been right all along. He longed to be free of the chains that tied him to the mountain, to fly on the wind as Kili did.

It was that very thought that slowed his feet now, heavy in his boots and yet lighter away from the weight of Erebor. He took his time, meandering through the bluebells that littered the forest floor, feeling the bite of the wind as it ruffled through his hair. He knew he needed to find Kili quickly, they were due back in the mountain already, and no doubt their mother would be fuming, but he could not deny himself the peace he felt as soon as he stepped into the cool shade of the trees. 

Fili had been out here a lot lately. And not, as he knew everyone believed, in search of his brother, but in an effort to avoid him. Kili had been acting… odd, lately. Fili snorted, _that’s one way of putting it._ He shook his head in an attempt to clear the images that began to flood in, but he couldn't prevent his mind from casting back over Kili’s recent behaviour. 

All their lives, they had been inseparable. They were never Fili or Kili, always Fili-and-Kili; they came as a pair and every dwarf knew it. Brothers, partners in crime, partners in arms, best friends; there had never been a secret that had gone unshared, never a moment wasted that could have been filled with laughter and light. His brother's face was the first thing he saw every morning, tongue waggling out the side of his mouth as he attempted to fix Fili’s braids without waking him, an endearing habit that Fili secretly hoped he’d never stop.  

But now, he was just ever so slightly closer. Standing at his side through every council meeting, even though Fili knew how much it bored him; eyes meeting across the table at dinner, but this time lingering, filled with a certain depth that Fili had never seen there before. Fili couldn’t explain it. He wasn’t even sure when he’d started to notice, but now he could do nothing but focus on trying to suppress the burning fire Kili’s actions had lit within him, reigniting the old flame that Fili had been sure he had extinguished. 

Every morning he woke longing to flip his brother over and take that rebellious tongue of his in his mouth, to pull him down into the warmth of his bed and never let him go. Kili’s face became the last thing he saw every night, either in his dreams, or in his bed, when Kili suddenly began complaining of nightmares, even though he’d never had them in the aftermath of the battle that won them their home, and crawled in with him. Each night Fili lay so still, aching but terrified to touch, to just reach out and feel the warmth of Kili’s skin against his own, to let his hands roam the planes of Kili’s body, to map out his scars and veins the way he’d mapped out the forest. 

 _No._ It was thoughts such as this he was trying to escape. 

He knew that what he felt was wrong. Knew it deep in his bones, knew it as he knew the sun would rise each day. But try as he might, he couldn’t escape it, and he couldn’t ignore the fear that was brewing with every moment of Kili’s lingering proximity. 

He tried pushing that thought away, hiding it deep inside, like he had been ever since they’d left the shire all those years ago. _It doesn’t mean anything._

But denial didn’t change anything. It didn’t change the fact that he was afraid. Afraid of what Kili’s behaviour meant. Afraid that somehow his sickening thoughts had somehow infiltrated Kili’s mind. He rubbed a hand over his eyes, mentally locking the box he’d stored those thoughts in. _If only I knew how to throw away the key._

He sighed. Today wasn’t about them anyway. 

He’d reached a clearing, _their_ clearing. A tiny glade that they’d discovered one afternoon following an unfortunate incident in which Fili may or may not have thrown Kili in the stream. Kili’s indignant squawk wasn’t loud enough to muffle the sound of Fili’s laughter as he watched his brother squirm. Of course, the joke was on Fili as Kili had proceeded to strip off all of his wet clothing right in front of him, before demanding they go and find a sunny spot to dry off in. Fili had followed him, trying, and failing, to ignore the way the strong muscles in Kili’s back shifted as he attempted to wring out his clothes. Shafts of light up ahead had drawn Kili in, fracturing and splintering through the trees until they merged into a golden halo of light.

They’d stumbled upon the clearing quite by accident, but Fili knew it was no accident that had brought his feet here today. No matter what he did, he was powerless to resist the pull his brother had on him, and he smiled fondly, knowing he must be nearby. 

***

“What are you smiling about?”

Fili started, pulled from his musings. Even though he’d suspected Kili was here, it still shocked him how his brother never failed to sneak up on him. He turned, expecting to see Kili’s cheeky grin and brunette locks swaying in the wind behind him. And yet… Oh. Of course. Fili smiled, and then looked up. 

“Nothing, you little squirrel. Get down from there, we’re going to be late.”

Kili wrinkled his nose and huffed, but steadily began making his way down from where he’d been perched high up an oak tree. 

“How long have you been sitting there?” Fili asked, “I’ve been looking for you for ages.”  

“Well clearly you weren’t looking properly,” Kili replied, evading the initial question, as he swayed down to the ground with a soft thump. “What does it matter anyway? You love spending time wandering the woods searching for me.”

Fili narrowed his eyes. Since when had his little brother become the observant one.

Kili grinned, “Don’t deny it. I'm not the only one that doesn't appreciate the _smooth stone that beats with the thrum of the mountain, the golden light bouncing off every beam and column.”_

Fili frown softened and he laughed as Kili deepened his voice, pulling on his most serious expression, eyebrows drawing together in a solid imitation of their uncle Thorin.  

“Yes alright so maybe I do love it out here…” he sighed, _but not as much as I love you._ He didn't voice that thought out loud however. The words died in his throat and he looked away, chest constricting. _Mahal not now Fili._

Kili must have caught the change in his expression, for the laughter died on his face as he looked at his brother. 

“What is it?”

“Hmm? Oh, just, you know, thinking about adad…” He cringed at the lie. It felt wrong to use the memory of his father as an excuse for his inappropriate feelings. _Not inappropriate, wrong,_ the voice in his head supplied. He grimaced again. 

“Oh, of course. The ceremony. I forgot it was today.” Glancing away, Kili let his eyes roam the forest floor, taking in the flattened dirt beneath his boots.

Fili quirked an eyebrow. “Did you?” 

“Mhmm, yeah.” Kili kicked a stone away, avoiding his brother's ever-knowing gaze. 

Fili sighed; Kili always got like this at the mere mention of their father. 

“You know I can always tell when you’re lying, right?” _I know you better than I know myself._

Kili didn’t answer, his silence alone enough to confirm that Fili was right. It seemed loud somehow, heavy, as if burdened with more than just an untruth, but with regret and sorrow as well. It was this, as with anything with his brother, that told Fili what the problem really was, that enlightened him as to why Kili had disappeared off into the wood in the first place. 

“You didn’t forget the ceremony. You forgot adad, didn’t you?” There was no accusation in his voice, no judgement or dismay, just a quiet acceptance of what he knew to be true. He understood, his own memories of his father were mere glimpses now, snapshots of a life he could hardly remember. 

“What!” Kili whirled around, finally meeting his brother's eyes. Sapphire, like their father's. That he knew at least. “Don’t be ridiculous!” 

But Fili knew him. Knew him as he knew the forest, and he knew that Kili’s eyes did not dance now in anger, but were instead filled with self-reproach, the shadow of guilt clouding over the chestnut depths.   

Fili thought back on his own memories. Eyes his exact shade of blue dancing in the firelight; a glimpse of worn furs over worn hands; a rich voice, leaving a calming wake; the smell of salt and sea air, a hint of their father's roots that never seemed to abate; a smile that could light the darkest of nights. 

A smile that Kili shared. It pained Fili to think that his brother could not remember these things, that his chance to know their father had been ripped away at such an early age.

“It’s okay Kili,” Fili offered, knowing even as he said it that that would not be enough. 

Kili scoffed and shook his head, walking away to slump down against the oak he had previously been wallowing in since dawn. Not that Fili needed to know that. 

“How is it possibly _okay_?” Kili answered in a voice so small, directed at his knees as he hung his head between his legs, that it took Fili a moment to realise he’d replied.  He didn’t know how to answer that. 

Kili ran his fingers through his hair, wincing as they pulled on tangled strands, and then continuing on as he found that the physical pain distracted him from his inner turmoil. 

Strong hands grabbed his wrists, tugging his hands out of his hair. “Stop that,” Fili barked, crouching down on the ground in front of him. 

“Kili look at me.” 

Sapphire met chestnut as Kili raised his head.

“I could tell you about him, if you like. You never ask.” Fili spoke gently, hoping, as he always hoped, that what little he could offer might be enough to take away his brother's hurt. _Always. Forever. I’ll always look after you._  

Kili shrugged one shoulder, hands still firmly ensconced in Fili’s warm grasp. He felt his brother settle more comfortably on the ground right in front of him, knees touching knees, as if they were about to share a secret that could only be held by the air they breathed between them. 

“Well,” Fili began, a slow smile spreading across his face as a memory sparked , “do you remember the time you tried to fly?”

***

_“Fili! Adad! Look, I’m up here!”_

_Fili's heart was pounding as he sprinted out of the old barn, desperately following the sharp sound of his little brother’s voice. He spun, mouth widening in horror as he spied his brother perched right on the edge of the roof._

_“Kili!”_

_“Fili look! I’m going to fly!” Kili flapped his arms and teetered closer to the edge._

_“Kili no!” Fili cried out in horror, whipping around to search in vain for their father. He spun back to Kili, but he was too late._

_Kili had taken several steps back, and as Fili turned, he ran towards the edge, little legs pumping beneath him, and Fili felt more than heard his father racing up behind him, frozen to the spot as he was, unable to hear or speak or think about anything other than the little light in his life that he knew was about to go out. He watched Kili take off, and then stumbled as his father shot past him, Kili’s screams finally breaking through his haze as he watched him plunging down and down._

***

“Okay I don’t really see how this is supposed to be making me feel better or remind me of adad Fili,” Kili tried to yank his hands away from where Fili was still holding them, but Fili had always been stronger than him, and refused to let go. 

Fili’s smug smirk only irritated him further as he pinned Kili’s knees beneath his own, effectively trapping him between his own body and the oak tree at Kili’s back. 

“You know you’ve always been a reckless little so and so nadadith,” Fili ruffled Kili’s hair and laughed as was pushed away, revealing in the smile that was slowly taking over Kili’s features. 

“Besides,” Fili continued, “you didn’t let me finish.”

Kili rolled his eyes, but bit his tongue for now. 

“Now then, where was I? Ah yes, as you went plunging down to your certain death…”

“Fili!” _That didn’t last long._

“Oh, right, sorry; as you sprouted a pair of beautiful wings and started to fly…”

“ _Mahal_ Fili stop it!” But Kili was chuckling now, a joyous sound that warmed Fili’s heart.

“Okay in all seriousness then, you don’t remember how adad spent the entire month by your bedside, teaching you to play cards and reading you every story we had in the house, until by the end he was just making things up to entertain you? He would draw each character on those awful casts Oin had wrapped you in, and he would always have a long spoon at hand for when you had an itch to scratch,” Fili smiled. He remembered full well how he’d hardly even seen his father or brother that month, both wrapped up in the fantasy worlds their adad had created in an effort to distract Kili.

Kili, whole, alive, breathing Kili, who had somehow managed to survive the flying incident, as it came to be known, with only broken bones, was smiling now, but Fili could still see the pinch in his brow that belayed the confusion he still felt.

“I still don’t really see your point though Fili,” he huffed, glancing down at their still-intwined hands, letting his go slack.

“Hey,” Fili said, squeezing until he felt Kili squeeze back, “my point is, it doesn’t matter if you can’t remember him that well. What’s important is that you remember how much he loved you. He _adored_ you Kili, he hated being stuck inside the stifling air of the mountain more than both of us combined and yet he never left your side when you needed him. Not just that month when you were injured but always; every nightmare, every hurt he was always there with a joke and kind words to cheer you up.”

 _Where did you think I learnt it all from?_ The thought banged around in his brain, but he pushed it down for now.

Kili allowed himself a wobbly smile, his mouth quirking upwards as he recalled the ridiculous outfits his father had painted his uncle Thorin in on one of his casts. “Keep going,” he breathed. 

Fili didn’t hesitate, intent on making his brother understand how loved he truly was, how much he had meant to their father. “It wasn’t just your hurts that he was there for Kili. He was always your biggest supporter, he put your first bow in your hands, and he showed you how to fletch your arrows. He taught you how to hunt and how to read the skies at night.” 

Kili barked out a short laugh, and shifted, edging incrementally closer to Fili. “I do remember that one. That night he took us out to lay beneath the stars so he could point out all the great kings of our line that were up there.”

Fili snorted at the memory, “Yeah, and you said I’d never make it up there because I wasn’t tall enough to be a great king.”

“Well in my defence I wasn’t wrong,” Kili teased, waggling his eyebrows and poking his tongue out at him.

Fili untangled their hands long enough to cuff him on the back of the head, but he took the tease with learned grace, glad that their easy rapport seemed to have returned, content that Kili seemed somewhat eased by the knowledge of his father’s love. 

His hands held Kili’s once again, and he gently rubbed his thumb over the back of his knuckles, tracing the small scar that he knew to be there without having to look. He could feel tension remaining in the muscles below his fingertips, a sense of foreboding creeping up on him as he realised that something was still bothering Kili. 

“You know, when I think of the er, flying incident, none of that is what I remember,” Kili’s voice cracked, belaying the apprehension behind the words. 

“It’s not?” 

“No. It’s not.” Kili face crumpled, and he abruptly pulled his hands away from his brother, pushing himself to his feet and turning to begin the walk back home. 

Fili scrambled up after him, but didn’t move to follow. He knew Kili, knew he wouldn’t be able to rest without getting what was now bothering him off his chest. Fili felt the crushing despair at not being able to make his brother happy begin to return, and he absently rubbed a hand against his chest, as if he could somehow erase the ever present ache in his heart at the thought of never being enough for his brother. 

He didn’t have to wait long. 

“When I think back on what happened, all I can remember is how much I missed you. How every day I hoped I’d wake up better again, so I could go out and play with you. I think about the look on your face when I fell. How I never wanted to see that look on your face again. How guilty I felt for putting it there. How I missed sharing the bed with you because of the stupid cast because then you weren’t there when I had nightmares.”

“Kili…” Fili began, desperate to interrupt before his brother said something he’d regret. 

Kili didn’t allow him that chance. 

“It’s you Fili. Every moment, every memory… It’s always you.” 

Kili’s words hung in the air, sharp like the first frost of the morning. Fili froze, unable to even form words as his mind raced back across his own memories, knowing that he would find each one intrinsically linked to Kili in some way. He knew what that meant for him, had resigned himself to the truth a long time ago. But Kili. _No._ Kili couldn’t think that. Not Kili. 

“Aren’t you going to say anything?”

Fili’s head snapped up, and he found himself staring once again into Kili’s eyes. They were still only feet apart, but the space between them seemed to be growing with every second of silence, stretching between them like a chasm Fili knew he couldn't cross. Chestnut became taupe, darkening depths filling with what looked like pain and regret. Fili should know. He had seen that same look in his own reflection more often than he cared to remember. 

 _I love you._ Fili almost said the words, bit his tongue at the last moment, horrified with himself. Horrified with his thoughts, horrified that he had apparently somehow tainted his brother as well. Horrified that he was the one now putting that desolate look on Kili’s face. Horrified that in his vow to cheer up his brother, he had only made things so much worse. _No. We can’t do this._ He swallowed, took a deep breath. 

“Come. We should go.”


	2. The Sycamore Tree

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _Far above him, on the uppermost level of the mountain, Dis stood at one of the lone balconies that marked the royal chambers, tension etched across her face as she watched Fili enter the woods. A combination of relief and irritation replaced it as he returned not long after. Alone._
> 
>  
> 
>  
> 
> Dis contemplates the path her boys are on, as Fili crumbles under his inner turmoil.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Once again a humungous thanks to my wonderful beta [Anathema_Cat](http://archiveofourown.org/users/Anathema_Cat/pseuds/Anathema_Cat), without whom this never would've gotten written!

On the tenth anniversary of their father’s death, Kili had found himself up a tree.

It was one of his favourites, an ancient sycamore whose branches twisted off in every direction. It had been the first one he’d ever climbed.

It stood apart from the rest of the trees of the forest outside Ered Luin. Spruces, firs and pines shot up all around it, tall and lithe. But not the sycamore. It was almost squat compared to the rest, rounded and huge in width not height.

Once he’d conquered the art of climbing, Kili had moved on from this tree, preferring to be up high amongst the treetops, closer to the stars and the moon. But whenever he needed a moment, and just wanted to sit and think, he always ended up back here.

The well worn branches knew his footsteps, and as he sat back in his favourite hollow, gazing upwards, he thought to himself that it was odd how the sycamore always seemed to know, how the wind that had become his friend throughout the dark times would work in tandem with it, parting the leaves in such a way that he could always get a perfect view of the stars when he needed it.

It was odd and yet, perhaps Fili had been right. Perhaps there was a certain magic about the forest that they did not understand.

He sighed as he heard the leaves rustle below him, the crack of twigs that signalled an approach. He felt the sycamore sway ever so slightly, and shivered as the motion sent droplets of water from the day’s storm cascading down towards him, a few seeping between the layers of his clothes, running down the back of neck.

The branch he was perched on dipped as Fili joined him, warm weight settling by his feet, the familiar smell of woodsmoke and leather soothing his thoughts. The tension he’d felt all day eased ever so slightly in the presence of his older brother, but the confusion that raised its head every year on this day remained.

Their mother’s strength had broken early this morning, in sync with the storm that had come lashing down around them. As the clouds rallied and broke their bonds, so too broke the heavy chains that held Dis’s grief at bay.

Kili had felt so lost in that moment. There were no words of comfort he could offer, too young when they’d lost their father to truly understand the pain his mother must feel, and yet too old to seek comfort for himself. It was this that had driven him outside, seeking solace in the quiet of the wood, as Fili had shown him all those years ago.

Night had fallen since then, and the storm had finally settled, clearing the skies and giving way to the stars. The stars always reminded him of his father, and it was this that Kili had been waiting for, seeking solace in the strength of the tree at his back.

He sought familiarity in the skies above him, as he always did; searching for the echo of his father’s warmth beside him; his lilting tone as he pointed out the different constellations. He worried that he was forgetting it all, that one day he would close his eyes and no longer be able to place his father’s face; that one day he would look into Fili’s eyes and not see their father reflected back at him.

He hated to accept what he knew to be true, somehow believed that denial in the face of truth would save him. But it didn’t change anything. Didn’t change the fact that, in a way, he wanted to forget.

He didn’t want to constantly be reminded of their father, the laugh he would never hear again, the comfort he was no longer able to seek. The darkness that had engulfed them all after he’d died had finally begun to lessen, but each year whilst the weight of grief lessened, the pull of guilt grew ever stronger.

Confused, guilty, and at war with his own thoughts, Kili had fled the mountain, choosing instead to spend the day amongst the leaves of the forest, the smell of damp earth and bark one the few true reminders he still had of his father.

He did not understand why Fili had bothered to come searching for him, he didn’t deserve the comfort he knew Fili had come to offer, not in the face of their mother’s pain, the aching wound that always reopened on this day.

He knew Fili felt that same pain, and tears rose unbidden to his eyes as he realised what an awful brother he must be, fleeing the mountain like a dwarfling instead of being there for his family, wishing to forget the unyielding love of their father rather than face the sorrow of his loss.

He hastily scratched the tears away, the confusion of his thoughts leaving him exhausted. He wasn’t sure he had more to give.

Fili remained quiet, and the silence hung around them now. Kili breathed it in, revelled in his brother’s unrelenting understanding of the need for quiet, the ability to share with another through an unspoken comprehension that simply being in each other’s company was enough.

Fili reached over and grasped Kili’s hand in his own, giving it a light squeeze.

“You found me,” Kili finally spoke, the simple words not a question but a statement, a reaffirmation of the bond the two shared.

“Of course I found you,” the indignant surety in Fili’s tone brought a small smile to Kili’s lips. “No matter what happens Ki, no matter where you go, I’ll always be with you.”

* * *

65 years had passed since that day.

65 years and Fili was breaking the one promise he’d always vowed to keep.

Fili felt the trees closing in on him as he walked away, the boughs bending in the wind as if turning away from him; in shame or disgust, he did not care to know.

He didn’t look back to see if Kili was behind him; he knew his brother would always follow in the end. The thought repulsed him, his own words from all those years ago being thrown back in his face as a harsh reminder that it was _he_ who had done this, it was _his_ fault that his brother had been tainted in this way.

He didn’t _want_ to look anyway, he didn't want to see the truth he now knew he’d find etched on Kili’s face.

Instead he looked upwards, searching for a break in the canopy, a single ray of sunlight to warm the blood in his veins, now running colder with every heartbeat, every footstep he took further away from Kili.

He couldn’t believe it had come to this.

He’d only sought to find his brother and return him to the mountain, the tradition of Kili’s disappearance into the woods on this day something he was loathe to disrupt. He knew the guilt that Kili carried with regards to their father, the pain he felt so different to Fili’s own.

It made Fili’s heart ache in a completely new way, more fissures being created in the already fragile structure, at the thought of adding to that pain. But he had his own guilt to come to terms with, a burden that had just grown exponentially heavier at the realisation of what he had done.

He shielded his eyes against the harsh sunlight as he left the woods and began the long walk back to the mountain, trying his hardest not to think of the light he’d just put out.

* * *

It was the feast of Erindring, the last day of the first moon of spring. It was a day of remembrance, a day of saying goodbye to the souls returning to the halls of their maker. It was both sorrow and celebration, and in the years since they’d returned to the mountain the festival had grown to become a significant event on the dwarven calendar, as the lives of those lost in the years of exile were remembered and honoured as well.

After the battle for Erebor, a concerted effort had been made to ensure that all the dwarves who’d lost their lives were returned to the stone, a privilege not allowed for the majority who’d died in the years after the mountain was taken. It was one of the few things Thorin had insisted on, forever regretful that not only his grandfather, but his father, brother, and brother-in-law too had not been afforded the dwarven right.

Each year, lanterns were lit throughout the mountain, outside the houses of those who had kin and ancestors they wished to honour that year. Today, the mountain glowed. There were few families that had not been affected by the dragon’s siege, few that had no lanterns to light, even five years after the dragonfall. It was custom to only honour one each year, and as Fili passed through the mountain on his return to his chambers, he realised that he could live a lifetime before every life that had been lost was rightfully celebrated.

Golden light flooded every corridor, every crevice, every shadow. There was nowhere for Fili to hide, no darkened corner for him to crawl into and wallow over his feelings. Even if there was, he had no time for that. Again he felt the weight of his impending crown spreading down his spine, and he wished not for the first time that he didn’t hold the responsibilities of royalty. He was already running late and Mahal knew what sort of state Kili was going to turn up in.

With a heavy sigh, he began dragging his feet up the stairs.

* * *

Far above him, on the uppermost level of the mountain, Dis stood at one of the lone balconies that marked the royal chambers, tension etched across her face as she watched Fili enter the woods. A combination of relief and irritation replaced it as he returned not long after. Alone.

She tracked his ascent back to the mountain, peripheral vision trained on the forest, awaiting Kili’s own exit. She knew how much this day affected Kili. She’d always known, as mothers do. He’d gotten into the habit of spending this day alone, and she’d never begrudged him that; it was unfortunate in a way, that this anniversary had fallen on the feast day. It didn’t change the fact that she wanted, _needed_ , him there with her. And she couldn’t believe that Fili wouldn’t have been able to find him; her eldest had always revolved around Kili like he held his own gravitational pull.

And lately… She shook her head. She didn’t want to think about how they’d been behaving lately. She pushed down the emotions roiling inside of her, ignoring the mothering instinct that told her Fili was walking back with extra weight in his stride, ignored the gnawing feeling in her gut that spoke of his own pain that was unrelated to today’s event. Instead she turned, retreating into the sanctuary of her rooms.

The boys weren’t the only ones running late. Sighing, she rubbed a hand over her eyes, willing back the growing irritation that mingled with the tears waiting to fall.

The ever present sorrow at the loss of her husband tugged at her, pulling her into its current as she sat at her dresser and began removing the beads he’d gifted her throughout the years from her curls. He’d have known what to do. Maybe he could even have stopped this; stopped the thoughts she knew were spreading in the minds of both of her boys. She wondered if it was a type of dragon sickness, but immediately brushed that away. She knew that Fili at least had felt this way long before they’d returned to Erebor.

Deep down, unwilling to admit it to herself, she knew that Fili had _always_ felt that way, and she felt the same decades-old guilt emerging as she remembered the relief she’d felt when Kili had never shown him anything more than a brotherly love. When she’d heard of the elf that had come to her boys’ rescue, she hadn’t felt the same disgust as the others, she’d only felt the overwhelming relief that this, even _this_ , a pairing with an elf, would be better than a fate with his brother.

And of course with that came the second wave of guilt. The slow residual wave that crashed inside her, chipping away as she watched her eldest crumbling and did nothing to stop it. Did nothing but add to his responsibilities in the hope of distracting him from his feelings.

Regarding herself in the looking glass, she noted the few greys that had slipped in unnoticed, wondered how her husband would have looked if they’d had the chance to grow old and grey together. Wondered what he would have thought about this all.  She fumbled with the bead in her hand, dropping it in her frustration. Tears began to fall as she looked away from her reflection, dropping her head into her hands as she was bombarded by the conflicting emotions within herself.

She didn’t need to wonder what he would have thought. She already knew; and she knew how ashamed he would have been of her. He wasn’t of royalty as she was, he was a fisherman’s son, who knew the true value of love and laughter. He wouldn’t have denied them love she was sure they shared.

Her walls of denial disintegrated as she allowed acceptance in; acceptance of the path she knew they both had taken; acceptance of the price her sons had paid for the sake of her own happiness, her own idea of what was right and what was wrong.

She allowed herself a moment to grieve.  She sobbed at the thought that she would never attend her sons’ weddings, never cradle a grandchild in her arms, never see the continuation of their line. She knew she’d been selfish, but she worried that her boys didn’t truly understand the consequences of their emotions. They would live a life of secrecy that she wished she wasn’t privy to.

Sniffling, she wiped at her eyes, reaching into her stores of Durin strength to pull out her perfected smooth mask of calm. It wouldn’t do for her boys to see her like this; broken at the thought of their fate.

She finished doing her hair, concentrated on the winding of her fingers as she weaved the ceremonial braids, trying to clear her mind of the fragmented thoughts and emotions that were beating away at her. She didn’t even know what to feel anymore. She was just so exhausted with it all.

_Haven’t my boys suffered enough?_

The thought seared in her mind.

She’d been in denial about this for too long. Just because she couldn’t understand something, didn’t mean she couldn’t learn to. This path they were on was dangerous, yes, but she knew her boys, knew how stubborn they were. She realised if she didn’t step in soon they were bound to do something reckless, something that would bring nothing but more anguish upon their family.

Smoothing down her dress, jewels glinting in the sunlight streaming through from the balcony, she gathered herself, heading for the door when she heard the unmistakeable sound of her son’s heavy footsteps approaching.

She was strong, she was a _Durin, for Mahal’s sake._ But being a Durin didn’t mean that she wasn’t also a mother.

It was high time she started acting like one.

* * *

“Fili, can you come in here for a moment?”

Fili started at the sound of his mother’s voice as he passed her chambers. _Why wasn’t she already downstairs?_ The ceremony would be starting soon.

He turned to face her, frowning at the emotions he saw flicking across her face; so similar to those reflected on his own. Sorrow. Resignation. Guilt.

“Look Amad, I’m sorry we’re late, we-”

“That’s not what I wanted to talk to you about,” she cut across him.

“Oh. It.. It’s not?” His eyebrows drew together, confusion growing.  

“No. It’s not.”

The simple exchange struck deep in Fili’s heart, and he felt as though the wind had been knocked from him as he realised that only moments ago he’d stood and asked Kili the same question. Asked with devastating results. He sighed, grateful that Dis had already turned away to gesture him inside, missing the way his face fell, pinching together at the palpable ache in his heart.

She led him out onto the balcony, and he relaxed slightly, closing his eyes and humming at the wind on his face. It had been five years and yet he was still unaccustomed to living inside the mountain in this way, still uneasy at the thought of the stone crushing the air out of his room.

When he opened them, he was met with the sight of tears silently rolling down his mother's face as she gazed into the distance, and he raised a hand to gently wipe them away, concern bubbling in his throat.

“Amad, what -”

“I know, Fili.” She leaned into his palm, closing her eyes as more tears fell. He stood there, lips still parted, questions on the tip of his tongue, when he caught sight of what she’d been staring at. Out on the plains that separated the mountain from the forest, scrubbing his face on his sleeve as he determinedly walked back to Erebor, was Kili.

* * *

Ignorant of his audience, Kili forced his face into the Durin glare as he stormed back to the mountain. Not that it took much effort, mind; his eyebrows had always afforded him a rather thunderous look. The perfect imitation of their uncle, his mother had always told him.

He snorted bitterly. Always more their hard, stubborn uncle rather than their golden, loving father. Sometimes, at moments like this, he wished to never see a speck of gold again.

He was fuming, the anger rolling off him in waves, dispelling the few brave dwarves who’d sought to try and speak with him. He knew he was being irrational, knew he had no right to be angry that his brother clearly didn’t return his feelings, but he had been _so sure_. He thought… No. He didn’t want to think. He knew as soon as he let the misting anger part there would be nothing left but hurt and pain and he couldn’t deal with that. _Not yet._

* * *

Fili was frozen. Horrified. In the space of one morning the secret he’d built up for years had come crashing down around him. He couldn’t breathe, his lungs felt like they were compacting, closing in and taking him down with them. _How could she know?_ His mind was reeling, synapses firing as he took in every moment he’d spent with Kili in his mother’s presence, analysed every word, every touch. His pupils dilated as dread pooled in his stomach and his breath started coming in short gasps.

“…Fili? Fili!” His mother’s voice was lost in the torrent of emotions ripping through him. He couldn’t bring himself to look at her, couldn’t bear to see the disgust and anger staring back at him.

“ _Fili!_ Look at me,” he felt a light touch on his face, flinched away as though he’d been struck.

He forced himself to take a deep breath, a desperate gulp for air as he swallowed, throat constricting. He blinked rapidly, willing his heartbeat to calm, and tried to focus on his mother’s touch; _gentle, not harsh,_ his mind supplied.

He reached out a hand to lay on her arm, fingers gripping the fabric of her dress tight, an anchor in the maelstrom of his thoughts. _She was his mother, she would forgive him_. Doubt seeped into his mind, drifting to sit with the guilt that was already smothering him.  

“Amad, it’s not… I mean. I never… Kili, he doesn’t know. I never, I would never,” the words spill out in a rush, tripping over his tongue in his desperation to get them out, to make sure his mother understood that he hadn’t planned this, he didn’t _want_ this. He’d never acted on it, he’d never violate Kili in that way.

But still she said nothing, and as he compelled himself to look at her, through the blur of tears forming in her eyes, he saw nothing but loss and pain reflected back through the drops of her own.

He hung his head, felt the first tear drip down his face and over his nose. His voice was small now, defeated.

“I didn’t mean for this to happen. I’ve tried not to… to think of him like that. I don’t want to. I’m so sorry Amad.”

He tensed as he felt her draw her hand away from his face, waiting for a slap that never came.

Instead, he felt himself drawn into her warm embrace, her arms encircling him in a hug he knew he didn’t deserve. And yet, he craved it. For too many years he’d stood alone without comfort, for too many years he’d carried the burden of his feelings alone. He buried his face in her shoulder, as he sobbed, the battle of his emotions finally winning out. He let it go, let her stroke his hair and rock him like she used to when he was only a child.

“Oh Fili. My poor, poor boy,” she drew back, cradled his face in her palms. “It’s not you who needs to apologise, my dear.” Her voice was barely a whisper, and it still soothed like a balm across his raging emotions.

“What are you talking about? Of course I-”

“No. No you don’t,” she stepped away, leaning against the stone wall of the enclosed balcony, gazing over at the horizon in an effort to avoid meeting her son’s eye.

“I… I guess I’ve known how you felt for years now. I… I never knew what to say, I never even really accepted it before.” She absently picked at a loose thread on the sleeve of her dress. She took a deep breath, let it out on a shaky exhale. “But… I’ve seen how Kili’s changed Fili. Seen how he’s come to feel for you, too.”

She risked a glance back at her son, watched his jaw stiffen and his eyes harden.

“Then you know what I’ve done,” he spat bitterly, the venom behind it shocking Dis, “I should have left, years ago, before I tainted him with this.”

“Oh Fili, no!” She rushed forward, but he flinched back, and she felt even more despair and guilt well up inside of her at the anguish on her son’s face. A look she’d only ever seen once before, 75 years ago to this day, and which she’d hoped never to see again.

 _What have I done?_ She thought, sick to her stomach at the hurt she could have prevented had she not been so blinded by her own image of the lives she wanted her boys to lead.

“How can you think that, sweetheart?”

He shrugged, exhaustion unfurling inside of him, words still sour in his mouth. “I know the laws Amad. It’s sick, wrong. _I’m_ sick.” He pulled away, leaving the light of the balcony and slumping on the bed instead.

“And now I’ve made Kili sick too.” He leant forward, dropped his head into his hands, elbows digging dents into his knees.

He felt his mother move to kneel in front of him, and was again reminded of the conversation he’d just had with Kili in the forest. He tried to protest, she shouldn’t lower herself to the floor at his feet, but she shushed him gently, taking his hand in her own.

“Fili you need to listen to me, okay?” She waited for him to nod, wanted to make sure he understood what she was about to say. “There is nothing sick or wrong about love. We are dwarves, when we find our… our ones,” she cringed internally, the notion still uneasy in her mind. She forged onward though, promising herself that she would do whatever it took to never see one of her boys like this again.

“When we find the person we’re meant to be with, it’s bigger and stronger than anything, and you can’t fight that. If this is what the Maker wanted then… Well then who are we to fight that? You haven’t _tainted_ Kili, darling; you’re not sick, and neither is he.”

Fili shook his head slightly, the constant change of his emotions leaving him numb and disheartened. _What did it matter what Amad said? It didn’t make it any less wrong._ He opened his mouth to speak, but she cut across him again.

“I know what you’re thinking Fili. And I know what our laws say… And I can’t… I can’t say that I’m okay with this, or that I understand it. Not yet. But I’m willing to try. If this is what you both want, I won’t stop you. We… We’ll find a way, okay?”

“No Amad. I can’t. I _won’t_. I won’t do that to Kili. It would be no life for him, to live in secret, in fear of exile or… or worse. I should just… I’ll leave. Tonight. After the ceremony.” He felt the resolve harden within him, settling in his chest next to the aching hurt that had been rent throughout this day.

“And you’d do that to him? Leave him here, all alone. You’re everything to him Fili, you know that.”

_“It’s you Fili. Every moment, every memory… It’s always you.”_

He thought about what Kili had said, back in the woods when everything had seemed simple and bright. He thought about never seeing his smile again, never hearing the sound of his voice, never watching his beard finally grow in, never teasing him about how long it took. It broke the shattered pieces of his heart even further, and he knew that he’d never be able to go through with it. He could never just leave without saying goodbye. And if he tried to say goodbye, he knew that Kili would never let him go. He’d follow him to the ends of Arda if he had too, a sentiment that Fili could understand well enough.

He laced his fingers in his hair, breath hitching as he pulled slightly.

“I dont know what else to _do_ Amad. I’ve thought about this, what we’d have to give up, what _Kili_ would have to give up… I don’t think he understands. We’ve built our lives here now… I can’t take that away from him.”

“And you won’t,” her voice was firm, insistent; the Durin glint back in her eyes as she smiled softly at him. Her heart ached for the step she knew he was seconds from taking, but that she knew she would never try and lead him from again.

“He’s as stubborn as any Durin, that boy,” she smiled fondly at the thought of her reckless son, who loved greater and laughed louder than anyone she had ever known. “You won’t sway him from this Fili. If anything, I’m sure he understands it better than you do.”

Fili huffed a breath, his lips twitching in a feeble attempt at a smile at the willfulness of his younger brother. He let Kili’s face flood his mind’s eye, the way the sun would catch his hair, highlighting it in shades of bronze and amber; the warmth he always felt from Kili’s smile; the moment his heart had raced before he’d crushed it down when Kili had said those words to him what felt like hours ago.

He looked at his mother, taking in the few greys in her hair. He thought of Thorin, lined and aging and living his life alone because he’d been too damned stubborn to see past social conventions. He didn’t want to grow old and grey alone; he didn’t want that for Kili either.

He thought of the space he’d created between them back in the woods, and felt an entirely new kind of fear uncurling. He nodded at his mother, an imperceptible jerk of his head, as his mind reached the chasm, and took a great running leap.

* * *

They’d had to rush, in the end, barely making it to the great hall before the ceremonial music began to play. Thorin shot them a disapproving glare, before focusing his attention forward. Fili hesitated to take his place at Thorin’s side, noting Kili’s absence before spotting him standing across the hall instead, face a cool mask that Fili saw straight through. Kili was hurting.

He wanted more than anything to just rush over there and reassure him, grimacing when he realised that this was only the first time at the start of a never-ending journey where he would have to repress that urge. If Kili accepted him, they would spend the rest of their lives tiptoeing around each other in public.

Momentarily, he caught himself wondering if it was worth it; felt his mind slamming steel back into him as he looked at his brother.

_Of course it’s worth it._

Thorin’s baritone began sweeping the hall, reverberating off the pillars and kings of stone, and a flash of silver caught in a stray beam of sunlight caught his eye, as the memories began rolling in.

_Lightning flashed, flared; painted treacherous lines across the sky. A warm shaking body pressed against his, as they peered out into the darkness, awaiting their father’s return._

Dis’s voice overtook Thorin’s, soft and sorrowful, but with a new strength and resolution.

_Sobs of anguish and pain echoed throughout their home; his mother’s crumpled form on the floor at their cousin’s feet. He peered around the doorframe, knew he shouldn’t be witnessing this._

He stared over at Kili, the sapphire of his coat. Watched him fidget, knew how he hated wearing it.

_The sky was sapphire blue in the wake of the sunset as Fili stepped into the forest. For the first time in his little life, he entered alone._

_“Don’t be afraid, son.”_

_The echo of his father’s voice did nothing but add to the overwhelming sorrow in Fili’s heart. His grief was mirrored in every shadow of the trees, too big and too dark for him to truly understand._

He saw the emotions flickering across Kili’s face, the downcast shadow of his eyes.

_“Why are we here Fili? I don’t want to be here. It’s not right. Not without Adad.”_

_Tears welled in amber orbs, too wide on his little face._

_“I know Kili. But Adad’s gone, he’s not coming back.”_

_Lower lip quivered, eyes darting down to the ground._

_“Don’t look down Kili; look up.”_

Kili didn’t look right, here, in this hall. This isn’t where he was meant to be, trapped inside under the daunting weight of his own emotions.

_“What is this, Fee? Why are we here?”_

_“It’s a sycamore tree Kili. Adad showed me.”_

_Puzzled glance upwards, curiosity seeping in._

_“Come on. I promised Adad I’d teach you how to fly.”_

Kili was born to soar. He wouldn’t take that from him, wouldn’t let his doubts and fears stand in the way of the highs he knew Kili could reach.

His father had introduced him to the forest; and in turn, he’d introduced Kili to the wind.

_“Kili, look at me. It’s okay. You don’t need to be afraid. I’ll catch you if you fall.”_

_A snort, a smile forming that he hadn’t seen in far too long._

_“You said that the last time.”_

Kili raised his head, met Fili’s eye at last. Fili’s hands darted, tracing out words in Iglishmêk meant only for his brother. _Woods. Later_.

He hoped that would be enough, hoped that he hadn’t shattered the remains of what was left between them.

Their love of the forest, the wind in their hair. These were secrets that they’d always shared.

Maybe it was okay for them to share one more.

  
  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Honestly, this chapter just did not want to be written. Everything in my original plan for this fic has apparently been tossed out the window lol, so any thoughts you have would be really appreciated!


	3. Secrets On The Wind

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _Fili felt more than heard Kili approach, a subtle change in the atmosphere of the clearing, usually so still now rippling with a tremor of anticipation and no small amount of fear._

It was dusk by the time Fili made his way back into the forest. 

He’d always liked this time of day, the momentary darkness as the sun's amber glow faded and had yet to be replaced with the brighter lights of the stars and the moon. There was something almost clandestine about it, he thought. As though in this in-between moment between night and day everything was suspended, and secrets could be shared without fear of the dawning light throwing everything back into reality. 

It was fitting, really. 

His feet left the path as he made his way back to their clearing, weaving between the trees. They parted as if sensing his urgency, and Fili wondered if the pounding of his heart could be felt in the roots beneath his feet, beating up into the trunks and spreading along the branches. He laid a hand against one, the rough bark scratching against his palm. It was usually comforting, the feeling so familiar, but now he was itching to feel something far softer beneath his fingertips.

Fili took a shaky breath, trying to exhale the trepidation he felt. Years of wanting and waiting had all been leading him to this moment, and it was with nervous steps that he continued on. 

He’d always prided himself on his sense of direction, both literally and in the more abstract sense. He had always strived to do the right thing, to take the chosen path. His ventures off the pathways of the woodlands were one of his few acts of defiance, one of his only ways to rebel against a life that had always been set for him. 

It was unnerving now, to realise that with every step he was laying down the foundations for a directionless path. There was nothing expected or set in stone here, no compass he could look to nor star in the sky that would lead him the right way. 

For the first time, truly, the only thing he had to follow was his heart. 

And he’d be damned if denied himself that chance again.

* * *

_“Fili! Come, look at this.”_

_Fili raced over to where his father was crouched, little feet sliding on the wet leaves beneath him._

_“I’m coming adad!” He called back, far louder, sharp in the cool air. A bird took flight from a pine overhead, startled by the sound._

_“Hush, little Fee,” his father said, gesturing for him to slow down. “Carefully, now.”_

_Fili edged closer, curiosity piqued as he took care to avoid standing on any twigs that might snap, his first few weeks of hunting training ringing in his ears._

_“What is it adad?” Fili asked when he was close enough to peer over the back of his father’s shoulder. The smell of damp leather and woodsmoke clinging to his father’s clothes soothed him, and he instinctively reached out a hand to bunch in the back of his tunic._

_“Oh!” Fili let out a tiny gasp at the fragile nest cradled in his father’s palms._

_“It’s a bird’s nest, Fili,” his father said, gently stroking a finger over the egg nestled inside. “It must have fallen from one of the trees in the wind.”_

_“Where’s its amad?” Fili asked, innocence imbued in both his tone and the widening of his eyes. The egg was pearly white, almost gleaming in the red and orange hues surrounding them._

_“I expect she’s gone by now,” his father replied, turning to him with a sorrowful smile._

_“Gone?” Fili said, hand tightening on his father’s back as he stared back in shock. “But why would an amad leave behind her nadan?”_

_His father sighed deeply, as if all the world’s years were upon him._

_“Sometimes bad things happen, and parents have to go away,” he said, placing the nest carefully on the ground so he could take Fili’s hands in his. “It’s nature’s way.”_

_Fili blinked, his few years of life not lending him the means to process what his father was trying to say. For reasons he wasn’t sure he could explain at the time, he felt tears rising unbidden to his eyes, not even realising he’d let one fall until he felt his father’s hand brushing against his cheek._

_“It’s an important lesson Fili, and one you must learn, though it pains me to teach you. But you must know that sometimes, bad things happen that change what’s carven in stone, even when we don’t want it to. And sometimes, it’s something as simple as a change in the wind that can define the paths our lives are on.”_

_Fili nodded, sniffling as he tried to understand._

_“Did she want to leave?” he asked, lower lip wobbling as he looked down at the abandoned egg._

_His father tilted his head up, smiling at him with love shining in his eyes._

_“No, Fili. Parents never want to leave.”_

* * *

After his father died, Fili did not go into the forest for almost a year.

What once had been his sanctuary became nothing more than an aching reminder of what used to be, and of what would never be again. Every trail, every path, they echoed with the footsteps of his childhood, the laughter of his father hanging on the mist between the trees. Fili often wondered if all the ghosts of his past would find him here, lingering beneath the canopy. 

But as time went on, he came to realise that maybe his father had understood him far better than he’d ever understood himself. Because he’d been right about everything, as parents often are. Fili _had_ needed this; had needed the serene quiet that only the dense woodland could provide, had needed a place to escape too from the pressures of his duties. Had needed a place he could share with Kili that would become theirs and theirs alone. 

And after a while, he’d been able to find that peace in solitude again. It wasn’t the same without his father, what had been _theirs_ was now just _his_ , but eventually Fili realised that he’d never truly felt alone in the forest. The birdsong and the quiet murmur of the creek were familiar sounds that slowly began to ease away the heartache, and if he sometimes thought he’d caught a trailing wisp of his father’s voice on the wind or the rustling leaves, well, no one else had to know about that. 

He learned the lesson that his father had taught him all those years ago, and was able to let the pain go safe in the knowledge that his father never wanted to leave them, that he never would have chosen that path. Nature had its own way and that there was no use fighting fate, Fili knew that much by now. 

But that did not also mean that he couldn’t write his own. That he could not shape the stone from which his path would be carved. That he could have no say in the map of his own life. 

And it was this thought that was at the forefront of Fili’s mind as he left the golden light of the mountain behind and headed into the woods, every footstep entrenched with more surety than he had felt in a long time.

* * *

The forest nearest to Erebor was different than the one on the slopes of Ered Luin.

It was darker, the trunks of the trees more twisted, as though they’d been shaped by gnarled hands trying to push and pull them to their will. The trees were harder, more ancient, and not for the first time Fili wondered if there was a reason why this forest was still standing, when all those on the flanks of the mountain had been destroyed by the dragon. If perhaps the ancient magic of the forest that he’d always believed in was stronger here somehow. 

Little life had yet to return here, the birds still trickling in with every passing spring. And Fili missed the calls of the birds at dawn, the songs that they would sing to each other that were far more hopeful than the laments which rang out through the mountain in the years after the battle. But there was still hope here, the river running strong and the buds of the winter blooms peeking out beneath the fallen leaves. 

Fili let out a breath he hadn’t realised he was holding as he reached the clearing, walking past the tree his brother had been slumped against earlier that day and trailing his fingers across the bark, as if there was still some essence of Kili left behind that Fili could grab on to and never let go. It had bloomed late this year, some of its branches still clutching blossoms and shielding them from the wind. Fili smiled, thinking of Kili, of his wild temper and youthful exuberance. He had been like that; a late blossom who’d then shot up past the rest of them, strong and resilient in the face of nature’s way.

_Maybe that’s why he’s always been so stubborn._

Fili felt more than heard Kili approach, a subtle change in the atmosphere of the clearing, usually so still now rippling with a tremor of anticipation and no small amount of fear. 

_Kili was nervous._

It made Fili’s gut clench to know that he was responsible for his brother’s pain, and he waited for Kili to join him at his side, the pair of them staring up through the break in the canopy at the moon. They stood like that a while, just breathing the same air and sharing in the same space of silence as they always had. 

Fili could feel the aura of hurt and anger surrounding Kili, and he inhaled deeply, before reaching through it and across the chasm to grasp Kili’s hand.

His fingers instinctively sought out the ridge of the scar on Kili’s third knuckle, tracing it over and over with the pad of his thumb. Fili knew its twin was resting on his own face, hidden away in the line of his brow, and his lip twitched as he remembered the shock of Kili punching him in the face. Looking back, knowing what he knew now, it dawned on him that he’d probably deserved it. 

“Are you still not going to say anything?” 

Fili didn’t even need to look at Kili to know that he was pouting, and the twitch gave way to a smile at the thought of his brother’s sulks. What everyone else found rather alarming, Fili found nothing more than endlessly endearing, and his pulse throbbed as he thought about all the other things he knew about Kili that no one else did. All the other secrets that they already shared between themselves.

“I was thinking about adad,” Fili replied, not quite knowing where to begin.

Kili snorted. “You said that earlier. And I knew you were lying then, so don’t lie now.” 

The bitterness in Kili’s voice surprised Fili, and he turned to him finally, pulling on his hand until they were stood facing each other under the light of the moon. 

“I’m not,” Fili replied, wondering again when Kili had gotten so observant. He wondered if Kili could sense the nerves that he felt were quaking through him in waves. 

Fili dropped Kili’s hand, let go of the scar that for so long he’d considered a tether between them; a matching imperfection that linked them to one another in blood and broken bone. 

He wouldn’t need it now, not when he was about to tie them together in an entirely different way. 

He stepped forward into Kili’s space, reaching up so he could lay his hands on Kili’s cheeks and draw his eyes down to meet his own. Sapphire meeting amber, as it had always been. 

“Adad taught me everything Kili. The importance of family, the magic of the forest. How to climb, and how to hunt, and how to skin a deer. How to catch little brothers when they fall from trees,” Fili paused as Kili chuckled, and he licked his lip before continuing, not missing the way Kili’s breath hitched as his eyes tracked the movement. 

“You, Kili,” and his voice was soft now, barely above a whisper as he bit back everything he’d ever thought was _right_ and _proper_ and threw it all out into the night. “He taught me about you. How you like your breakfast and how to make you sit still long enough to put braids in your hair. How you’d always be reckless and that all I could do was to make sure I was there to look after you if you fell. He taught me what it meant to be an older brother, to take care of someone, to be there when they need you. He made me realise how hearing you laugh or seeing you succeed were the most important things to me.” 

Fili watched as Kili’s eyes lit up in hope, his lower lip trembling as he waited and those same eyes began to swim. 

“He taught me what it meant to love someone so much it makes your heart ache.”

Fili could feel his hands shaking, his heart pounding as Kili clenched his eyes shut and let a tear fall. It glistened in the moonlight, trailing down his face, not even making it as far as his lip before his eyes were open again, gazing at Fili for half a heartbeat before he leaned down and closed the distance between them. 

It was wet, Kili’s eyelashes flicking water across Fili’s cheek as their lips met. It was hesitant at first, nerves overriding excitement and relief as their noses bumped and they tried to work out how to fit together in this way. But it was new and enticing and they’d never not found a way before, never been anything but two halves of a whole. 

They moved slowly against each other, Kili pressing lightly at first, harder as his nerves fell away. Their breath ghosted over one another, this new secret shared, before Kili darted out his tongue to flick lightly against Fili’s lip. 

Fili gasped softly, opening his mouth to let Kili lick his way in, Kili’s hands coming up to rest on his brother’s hips as Fili pulled his face closer. 

Kili was warm; fiery and passionate and everything he’d always been, and Fili moaned into his mouth, revelling in the wet heat that he’d longed to taste for so long. He could feel Kili’s breath hitching as he fought with his emotions but he didn’t let him go, terrified that if he did then Kili would realise that this was all just a mistake. 

Instead he buried his hands in thick, dark hair, pulling Kili as close as he could and catching his answering whine in his mouth, entwining them together enough that he could feel Kili’s heart thumping through the tunics between them. Fili grazed his teeth over Kili’s lip, heat pooling in his spine as Kili moaned and tightened his hands on Fili’s sides. 

It was Kili that pulled away first, panting harshly in the quiet of the clearing as he nosed Fili’s hair out of the way to press a kiss against the scar on his brow. Fili pulled his hands down fair enough to lay them on the front of Kili’s jacket, holding tightly in case he tried to leave. He didn’t know how long they stood like that; long enough for Kili to stop shaking and for their breath to slow down and mist the night air, but not so long that the heat stopped crackling around them. 

“There’s no going back after this, you know that right?” Kili whispered, as if afraid of the answer. 

But Fili just huffed a laugh, leaning forward to press his forehead against Kili’s chest. 

“I’m not sure where I’d go back to,” he said, drawing back at the questioning noise Kili made so he could look him in the eye. “I’ve always loved you.” 

Kili’s face split into a grin, his eyes shining. “I love you too,” he said, ducking down to kiss Fili again. 

Fili smiled, but his heart ached as he mulled over what he still had to say.   “Kili, you need to understand that-”

“No,” Kili’s voice was sharp, eyebrows pinching in a frown, “I know you’re thinking. I always know what you’re thinking. Because I know you, Fili. I’ve always known you. And I know you think I haven’t thought about this but I _have_. I know what this means. I know what we’d be giving up. And I don’t care. I don’t care okay? Nothing else is important to me if it means I can’t have you.”

“But it, this. We will _always_ have to be a secret Kili,” Fili tried to keep the despair out of his voice, but couldn’t stop the way his hands tightened in Kili’s jacket, the way his heart thumped as he waited for it to break.

“Then it will _be_ a secret,” Kili replied, leaning down to rest their foreheads together. “It will be our secret. Just ours. You just have to say yes.”

Fili stared into his eyes, the flecks of amber melting in chocolate, that playful glint that he never seemed to be able to shake. It was this he thought, that answered for him. For after their father had died, it was in the glint of Kili’s eye that Fili had found light again. Like the rising sun after a violent storm, it was a tentative light that was nonetheless hopeful, and he’d grasped onto it with everything he had to pull them back out of the darkness. 

And as the wind breezed past with a whisper that sounded like acceptance, this reminder of today and all it meant to him was enough for Fili to pull Kili down into another kiss, breathing a yes against his lips, not wanting to share this new secret, their secret, even with the glade around them.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Apologies for my inability to update promptly!

**Author's Note:**

> Come drop us a line on [ tumblr ](http://pyxis-142.tumblr.com)


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